Code Geass: Charles of the Emblem
by lijdgreat916
Summary: In a time of bloodshed, conspiracy, and deceit, two brothers enter a pact to forever rid the world of lies. One would lead from the shadows, whispering violence to the world. The other would rule a nation with an iron grip, crushing anyone in his way. Both with the power to change fate. This is their story, retrieved from the shadows of history.
1. First Move: Brother

Disclaimer: I do not own Code Geass. This piece of fiction is written for the sole purpose of my enjoyment. After searching both the Internet, the wiki, and even looking for stories of it, I have failed to spot a single piece of information regarding the past of Charles di Britannia. There was a brief mention of his parents in the anime and the spin-off, Nightmare of Nunnally, but nothing beyond that. He apparently lived during the infamous Emblem of Blood era, and this fic aims to expand upon that.

* * *

"Charles, what the bloody hell is a democracy?"

I frowned. For someone who claimed that he knew all there was to the world, Videk could be pretty ignorant. This was most evident whenever politics or government came into play. "It's the form of government used in the European Union. Mr. Sysworth taught us this yesterday."

"As if I was going to listen to that ranting commoner. All that nonsense about free elections and will of the people." Videk flung his hair over his shoulders, something Charles was finding to be an increasing habit of his. "I mean, I have you to listen to that drivel for me. How is that information even relevant to ruling the empire?"

I turned yet another page in my book. "Father says in order to defeat your enemy, you must know more about them than you do yourself." I heard my brother scoff once more. That attitude of his would get him into trouble one day. Never mind the fact the chances of him getting on the throne were as high as Aunt Martrice's chances of finding a suitor were.

"Because that information worked so well in the Humiliation of Edinburgh."

I rolled my eyes. "That was over a hundred years ago, Videk."

Looking up from my book, I saw him nonchalantly spinning the diamond-encrusted globe perched on top of father's desk. Even though father had always scolded him for touching things that didn't belong to him, Videk always seemed to think he could touch anything he fancied, because damn it, he was a prince of Britannia.

"Oh Charles, don't you know? Those that don't follow history are doomed to repeat it."

"I don't see what that has to do with not knowing what democracy is. Besides, if your logic is to be followed, due to the fact you don't know what it is, you are therefore doomed to be banished from the fatherland."

As he always did when he didn't understand what was being said to him, Brother changed the topic. "Do you suppose father will approve the House of Lords proposal to invade Japan?"

"It's unlikely." Another chapter finished, I placed my book back on the shelf and reached for George Orwell's 2034. Sitting back down, I opened the book, the smell of dust permeating through the air. "The political climate isn't right. If we were to invade the island, which may I remind you holds 70% percent of the world's sakuradite, retaliation would surely befall us. The Chinese Federation and the European Union rely on that material just as much as we do. Maybe in a couple of years." I talked about the invasion of a country as lightly as I would the planning of a masquerade ball.

All this information was sure to bore Videk, who wasn't as interested in politics as I.

"Does that mean we won't be able to build my new summer home on Mount Fuji this year?"

"No, Videk, somehow I doubt that father will be able to build an entire palace on top of one of the world's most recognizable landmarks."

He gazed out the stained-glass window, genuine disappointment prominent on his face. "A pity, then."

Listening to this conversation, I suppose we would have sounded like two spoiled rich children. This wasn't too far from the truth. Well, in Brother's case, anyway. The truth is, Brother was nine years of age, and I the same. We were twins, you see, distinguishable only by our personality and shades of hair. Normally, our speech patterns and dialogue wouldn't be matched with that of adolescents, but as princes of Britannia, expectations ran rather high for us.

We were waiting in father's study room while he conferred with the House of Lords. Normally someone as low in the succession as Father wouldn't be considered a political powerhouse, but time and time again he had proved his adversaries wrong. Despite being raised on the beliefs that Britannians were the ruling race in the world, he believed all men were created equal, and that no one person had more value over his fellow man.

He was quite naive.

Of course, neither Videk nor I dared to tell him such, because naive he may be, he was still our father.

Speaking of whom, the polished wooden door opened to his study. Inside came not father, but one of the numerous servants that worked in the Prime Ministers estate.

"Young masters, your father has concluded his deliberation with the lords. He wishes to see you in the dining room."

Hopping out of father's luxurious chair (again, something not even Videk was supposed to sit down in) Brother strolled past the servant, not even bothering to make eye contact.

Internally sighing, I placed the copy of 2034 back on the bookshelf, and made to follow Brother. Glancing back at the servant, I gave a curt nod and hurried after Videk. Father always said to give courtesy where it is due.

Walking through the estate was like walking through a museum. Classical paintings adorned the walls, depicting Britannians during their finest moments. One picture had the image of Washington's Rebellion, Britannian soldiers clad in red besieging New York. Statues of Eowyn, founding father of Britannia, were placed at regular intervals. Lavender drapes framed the stained windows, and the sound of our footsteps were muffled by the Fine carpets underneath us. Light cast from the sun interacted with the chandelier's above us, with prisms of white shining on the walls. It was as beautiful as an art gallery.

And that was just the hallway.

"You know, I've often wondered something."

I listened to Videk, but didn't turn towards him. There was no time for idle chit-chat. Father wished to see us. "What?"

Brother brushed one of his hands against one of the many ornate tapestries we passed. "What do you think the Empress's palace looks like?"

I hesitated to answer. This had come from nowhere. "Aunt Hierria lives only ten minutes away. We're her favorite grandchildren, you could probably ask to visit the Imperial Castle."

"That would be childish." He lowered his hand. "I don't wish to visit the castle, merely compare the architecture of our respective homes."

Silence descended once more over us. Not a single word was spoken between us as we reached the door to the dining room. Nodding to the porter standing guard next to the entrance, he cleared his throat before opening the door for us.

"Their Highnesses Prince Videk di Britannia and his brother, Prince Charles di Britannia!"

It wasn't necessary to bellow our arrival out like that, but for the sake of tradition, we would go along with it.

Though not as gaudy as the hallway, the dining room was equally as huge and decorated as the hallway from which we had arrived. Intended to impress even the most fickle of ambassadors, the Silver Room, as Brother and I so lovingly called it, could rival even Aunt Hierria's Throne Room. A crystal chandelier ( note that the entire object was crystal, not just the hangings of it) was suspended above the table, if you could call it such. Built to seat 100 people, it was quite long and wide, with red cloth draped over it, silverware and glass plates alawys laying polished, despite the absence of guests. The windows, which in the hallway were stained, now depicted the Britannian crest outlined in silver, light cascading down on us. Then there was the main feature, the very object that gave the Silver Room it's name.

As the Empress's throne was made of gold, all of her children were permitted to make their own thrones from anything else they wished. Aunt Martrice's was made of elephant tusks imported from the E.U.'s African territory, Big Brother Gardensch's was carved from the iron of cannons used in Washington's Rebellion, and Uncle Leicetair's throne was crafted from refined sakuradite. Our father had chosen silver not because there was no other sensible material to choose from, but because he wanted to make a statement.

As silver was next to gold in value, he was essentially proclaiming he intended to succeed as the next Emperor.

Raykosch di Britannia, son of Hierria qo Britannia, seventh prince of the Holy Empire of Britannia, Prime Minister, Grand Duke of Nevada, and our father, sat on his throne.

Snoring.

I had bared witness to some Japanese cartoons, 'anime', as commoners named it. In them, anger was represented by four lines, sometimes three, outlined in black or red, usually around the forehead area. In this situation, I could easily picture myself with one of those marks adorned on my visage.

"Oh father, so laid back. That's not the way a son of the Empress should act." Videk was calm about this, he always was. To both of us, seeing father in a situation like this was nothing new, sadly. He just happened to take father's aloof attitude in better stride than I. "What if mother saw you like this? She'd be livid!"

When father didn't react to Videk's words, I watched in absolute horror as Brother nonchalantly placed his index finger inside his mouth, pulled it out, and proceeded to vigorously rub it in father's ear. This was a trick he had learned from Big Brother Fitzroy, who was the joker of the family. Needless to say, it had surprising results.

Instantly jerking awake, father banged his head on the back of his throne, an action which earned a short yell for us. Rubbing his head, he stared at as both in slight anger, until his frown was replaced by a kind-hearted smile.

"Videk, you little tyke. Been taking a page from Fitzroy's book, I see." His voice was warm as it always was, devoid of the usual malice that plagued the rest of the Britannian Royal Family. "Remind me to give Martrice's boy a reprimand when next I see him." Videk, as always, smiled deviously, while I frowned. That was it? Why reprimand Fitzroy when the true culprit was right here? I just couldn't understand father sometimes. He was too soft on the both of us.

"Videk Astroth Vembirch di Britannia the VI, I saw what you just did! You apologize to your father right this second!"

Then again, mother possessed enough fire for the both of them.

Father leaned over the armrest of his throne to get a better view of his wife, who was fast approaching from behind. "Oh, hello dear. Videk was just playing a game. There's no need to-" His voice was halted when a rolled up newspaper smacked him on top of his head. Mother repeated this action twice more. I vaguely noted the paper she was hitting him with was a copy of the _Britannian Times._ Oh dear, that was quite the number of pages.

"And you, lazing about, in your own throne no less!" She brandished the paper in her hands like a weapon, which considering what mother was capable of...

Father rubbed his head for the second time in the same minute. "Dear, technically this is just the Silver Room's _copy_ of my chair."

Mother scowled. "Your THRONE, not your chair, Raykosch. And do you honestly think that makes it any better?"

"Well-"

"Don't answer that." She turned to Videk and I, a loving smile in place of her scowl. "Children, your father and I have some very important news." She gestured to the chairs on father's right, which two servants had pulled out for us. Sitting in the aforementioned chairs, she sat to fathers left, who in turned cleared his throat, no longer slouching.

" Is something wrong, Mother?" I asked. " Have the Lords overrode father's decision to abstain from invading Japan?"

"Did he embarrass himself again?" That was Videk, of course. "We don't want another repeat of the pepper-shaker incident."

Father, who had the decency to blush after remembering _that _particular incident, shook his head. "No, nothing like that. Actually, it's a bit of good news. Angelica," he turned to mother, "would you like to tell them? It wouldn't sound as good coming from me."

Smiling, mother looked at us. "Your father and I recently visited Ms. Einstein, and well," she and father shared a look of pure joy, "it would appear you two are going to have a new baby brother!"

The silence in the Silver room was defeaning. No one really said anything, and the only sound to emanate was that of a cough from one of the servants in the corner.

"Well, that's lovely. Has Ms. Einstein predicted an arrival time for the child?" I casually remarked.

"Another brother? I can barely stand this one. Oh well, fresh clay and all." Videk sighed loudly.

Seconds passed, and a somewhat nervous chuckle was passed between the two. "Well," father started, "not _quite _the reaction I expected, but then again you two are mature for your age."

Mother beamed with pride. "That's my boys! Keeping calm no matter the situation! You two are going to be such good brothers!" In an unexpected event born of excitement, mother threw herself over the table and pulled us in a death grip.

"Mother, please, contain yourself!"

"Yeah, there are commoners watching!"

"Oh Raykosch, we have such wonderful children!"

"Indeed we do, Angelica."

Looking back on that time, that may have been the last moment we were all present in the Silver Room. Mother with her enthusiasm, father with his aloofness, Videk his arrogance, and I my exasperation. It was one of the happier times of my childhood.

Notice how I haven't described my parent's features.

It'd been so long since they were killed, I'd forgotten what they'd looked like.

The year was 1961 a.t.b.

The first year of what would be known throughout history as the Emblem of Blood.

* * *

AN: So, if you haven't caught on to it yet, this is a prequel to the series we all know and love. I plan to make this quite long, so it's not just a one shot. Feel free to alert me if you happen to notice any continuity issues. I'll try to make this fit as closely to canon as I can. 'Till next time.


	2. Second Move: Liars

Disclaimer: I do not own Code Geass. This piece of fiction was written for the sole purpose of my enjoyment. That means no money for me. You got that? So help me god, Jacob, if I ever hear you say I don't do anything for free, I will rip off your head and kick it in the fountain of the White House. Enjoy.

* * *

Videk was absent from the funeral. I couldn't blame him, as I had barely mustered up the courage to attend myself. After all, only five days had passed, and the shock of mother and father's death had not quite registered itself in my mind. Never again would I hear the chimes of mother's laugh, or the sight of father and his wistfulness. Nor would I ever experience the joy of the new brother Videk and I had been promised.

It had happened suddenly, and without warning. Father had proposed we go for a ride in the carriage, have a picnic in the Forest-gardens of the estate. After getting through Videk's complaints about how picnics were a commoner's activity, we were all prepared to go. It had been a lovely day, with a sun that was brilliantly shining whilst a pleasant wind sang through the air. It was such a nice image. Gathering into the carriage, father realized he had forgotten the brandy in his study, and requested someone go retrieve it. Being eager to prove my worth, I had hurried out of the carriage, hauling Videk along with me. The reason of exactly _why _father needed brandy was instatly forgotten as Brother and I raced to the study, got the bottle, and rushed back downstairs. I remember servants chuckling at our display of brotherly competition.

We had barely made it out of the front door when it happened.

The last thing Videk and I saw of our parents was them sharing a small kiss, joy in the air. One could have taken a picture of that moment and used it as an example of the perfect Britannian couple.

But then they were engulfed in fire, taken from us without warning.

Videk and I may have been young, but we were not naïve as father had been. We recognized the handiwork of a bomb when we saw it. The carriage had flipped over in the force of the bomb, landing some thirty meters away. Smoke drifted from the remains, and guards rushed to secure the perimeter. Servants carrying buckets of water and extinguishers ran towards the wreckage, intent on putting the fire out, hoping against all odds that their Lord and Lady were somehow still alive. I will admit that I did as well, but the expression on Brother's face said he believed otherwise.

In the ensuing chaos that followed, Videk and I were taken to the Imperial palace, where Aunt Hierria said we would be safe. Though I do not remember much after our parent's death, I distinctly remember the rose perfume our aunt, who was actually our grandmother, the Empress wore as she pulled us tightly against us, whispering that it would be all right. At that point, Brother and I had moved past shock and into hysterics. We bawled our eyes out in our aunt's fine silk dress, and she didn't seem to care. The throne room was uncharacteristically empty that day, and no one witnessed our grief.

Now, at my parents funeral, I could understand why Videk had not come. He was a proud boy, someone who couldn't bear to show his tears to the world. The news cameras that were filming the funeral were sure to capture that. I suppose it was reasonable, letting the media in. After all, mother and father had been loved by the Empire. This was something only members of the royal family could personally come to.

The service passed in a blur. I drifted through it, accepting condolences and well wishes from family I only heard of in mother's insults. There was a procession down Darwin Street, the Royal Family's district of Pendragon. Nobles and commoners rubbed shoulders as they crowded the streets, paying their last respects to Royals of Britannia.

I doubt the nobles even cared. it was just about image to them.

As I sat in the limo following my parents hearse, I shook my head. Where had those thoughts come from? Nobles were not the most caring people in the empire, but surely even they felt remorse at my parent's death? No, I suppose they wouldn't. The Nobility were always clashing with father, his policy of pacifism interrupting their plans of growth in the hierarchy. And the commoners, what did they care? They had never personally met my mother. Why should they care if she would never wake from her slumber, if father never delivered another speech in the House of Lords? To them, my parent's were untouchable figures in a glamorous world, their deaths a mere setback in the larger scheme of things. All of them, be they nobles and commoners, dukes and peasants, were here only to serve their own image.

I gritted my teeth. _Liars, all of them._

I glanced at the flask of whiskey kept in the bar section of the limo. Underage drinking was not tolerated, even among members of the Royal Family, but I thought I deserved to, what with my parents being murdered and all. Filling a glass with cubed ice, I poured an unhealthy amount of alcohol into it, more than was necessary. Father had always only filled the glass a quarter of the way, saying too much of a good thing was bad for you. In this instance, I honestly didn't give a shit about what was good for me. I downed the whiskey, drinking half of the tall glass. Fire bled into my throat and settled into my stomach, where it was smoldered. I drank the rest, the same feeling washing through me.

I repeated this until my vision grew fuzzy. I couldn't see straight, and my head became woozy. Maybe I had had enough? Either way, I wasn't given a choice in the matter when someone familiar entered the car.

"Well, this is shocking. My my, I never expected my prude of a brother to be participating in one of the more enjoyable pastimes of men." So, he had come. Intoxicated though I may have been, I could still recognize that arrogant tone of voice. I guess it made sense for Videk to come. He loved our parents just as much as I, no matter how many times it was denied. At least I could count Brother to share in my pain.

"And I never expected our parents to be blown to kingdom come. But we work with what we are given." Oh dear, I had indeed imbibed in a tad more alcohol then I had originally intended.

For the first time in my life, Brother's pretentious smile faltered. "I suppose."

He sat opposite me, also taking a glass and pouring a glass of European wine. Not to the extent I had with my whiskey, but the same amount as father used to. He sipped it slowly, tasting the sweet alcohol, unlike me, who was just drinking for the sheer audacity of it. Even when grieving, we acted as different as ever. At least, I hoped Brother was here to grieve. It would be better than staying here in the limousine by my lonesome and doing something stupid. Like strangling the first noble I saw.

It was quiet. Even the hum of the limo's old fashioned diesel engine had disappeared. Or maybe that was just the whiskey. Either way, neither of us did anything but stare out the tinted windows, glaring at all who had the nerve to attend the procession while nursing a glass of our chosen beverage.

"So who do you think did it?" The question was brisk, to the point that in my intoxication I had almost missed it.

"Did what?"

"Don't choose now of all times to be an insipid dolt, Charles." He took another sip of his wine. "You know perfectly well what I mean. Who was it you suppose murdered our parents?"

Truth be told, not a single thought had been given as to the identity of my parents killers. What with Aunt Hierria (who I must reiterate is actually our grandmother) keeping us held in the Imperial Palace, the depression that inevitably hit me, not to mention dealing with nobles who I just now realized had been lying through their teeth.

"This is the first time I've wondered that, actually." I smiled, fake though it was, at Videk. "Truly, the world must be ending if you of all people start thinking rationally before me." It was a joke told in bad taste, considering our current destination.

Brother must have found it funny though, as his trademarked smile crossed his visage. "Indeed. Which is why you need to shape up, Charles. Wouldn't want to fall behind me, as perfectly understandable as that would be."

We both laughed then, a sound which had not been heard by a soul since that infamous day. The driver must have thought us crazy in that instant. I would have agreed with him, too. What kind of person makes jokes at their own parent's funeral?

Stifling my laughter, I grinned. "Yes, the last thing we need is a travesty such as that to occur." We bathed in the light atmosphere as long as we could, attempting to put off reality, for as long as we could. When tension returned, as it was meant to, I returned to glaring at Nobles outside. "If I were to chance a guess, Uncle Rortimer would be a likely candidate. He's always been ambitious, and it's likely he thought father an obstacle in his path to succession."

"I'm not so sure. Remember Madame Gantzberry? Although she's not of royal blood, the House of Lords could easily set her up as a contender for the throne."

I was about to drown another glass of whiskey, but decided against it. Instead, I settled for a bottle of sparkling water, hoping it would soften the impact of the hangover guaranteed to hit me later.

"No, it wasn't her. She's one of those people who values honor over all else. If she wanted father dead, she would have just challenged him to a duel." I took another swig of the water, my head clearing already. My high tolerance of alcohol probably came from mother. "No, my money's on Big Brother Joel. He's never seen eye-to-eye with father. Did you know he still wants to invade India? Even father could see how ridiculous that proposal was."

Following my example, Videk picked up from the bar filtered water. "If all he wanted to do was invade that place, a few bribes to the right Lords would have sufficed."

"Your right." I normally would have choked on those words. "This is all so confusing. Maybe we should ask Brother Xavius?"

"Only if we have to. He's just as much a suspect as everyone else."

A week ago, we were pondering the philosophic implications of life after death, simulating a naval battle against France, and debating whether or not the consequences of killing Aunt Martrice's cat were worth the rewards. Now, we were trying to deduce the identity of our parents murderers.

God could go hang himself.

* * *

The graveyard had been empty for some time now. People had come, paid their 'respects', and left. Videk and I stood at the mound of re-shoveled dirt, rooted to the same spot for quite a while now. We had not said a word during the burial, not during the eulogy, not even when fake tears streamed down the faces of the very same people who we suspected.

A single royal guard, probably from Aunt Hierria's stock, stood a ways off beside the limo. He had patiently been waiting for a while, but even he was nearing the end of his patience.

In contrast to the events of that day, I remember the sky having nary a stray cloud in it's embrace, the sun shining brightly, and a pleasant breeze tickling our skin. It was just like that day. I can honestly say I would have preferred for lightning and rain.

I turned my back to the grave, having said my farewells some time ago, but unable to move. Before I could take a step, I heard Videk clear his throat.

"Charles, wait a minute, would you?"

I stayed where I was, waiting for Brother to come with me. Instead, he uttered five words.

_Five words that would forever be ingrained in my memory. Five words that from that point on, drove just about all of my actions. Five words that would drive Brother and I to commit unspeakable acts of horror in pursuit of our mutual goal._

"This world's full of lies."

I turned around, silently wishing for Videk to continue. These were the only words he had uttered since we left the safety of the limo. He didn't take his eyes off the grave, where an angel with outstretched arms stood in place of the normal tombstone. It was a gift from Aunt Grendalsh, a token of her friendship with mother (of all present at the funeral, she was the only one who shed real tears). Underneath six feet of dirt and encased in two jet black polished coffins, lay Rokosch and Angelica di Brittania, our beloved parents.

Videk refused to look at me, instead settling his sights on some far off distance. "Suppose there were no lies in this world. Where everyone told the truth and could be forever more happy." His arm reached up to his face, wiping away a tear I assumed had formed. "Wouldn't that be a wonderful world, Charles?"

"An ideal one, yes."

"Hmph. Ideal. Such a thing can never be, without sacrifice."

I worried about my Brother. So far, he hadn't shown any visible duress at the deaths of mother and father. Now, he was spouting meaningless nonsense I couldn't determine the meaning of. I would indulge him for now though. "If I could, that'd be a sacrifice I'd gladly make."

Videk turned and looked at me with a sense of apprehension. "Would you really?"

I smiled. "Of course. If not me, who? Unless I dragged you kicking and screaming, I doubt you'd do it."

There was that smug look I'd grown to tolerate. "Oh, whatever. I bet you wouldn't be able to handle it."

"Sure I wouldn't."

"Then it's a deal?"

Confusion etched itself across my face. "A deal?" I asked. Videk stepped closer to me, until he was no more than three feet away. He stretched his arm towards mine, holding it out in a friendly gesture.

"Yes, a deal. More like a contract, really. Do you, Charles Astroth Manchester di Brittania, agree to use all of your power in the pursuit of an ideal world? A world free of lies, and deceit. One where all men have the right to be content? These are the terms of this contract."

It was my turn to look smug. "Sure, Videk, I accept your contract." I grasped his hand in mine and gave it a firm shake.

_Perhaps if I'd been less amused, no, intrigued, by this sudden change in Videk's demeanor, I would have noticed the otherworldly glow in his eyes. I could have felt the surge of energy run through my body as I gripped his hand. I could have taken a different path in life, one free of bloodshed and war. But I noticed none of this, and my fate was sealed, fickle bitch that she is._

* * *

I woke up disorientated. When had I fallen asleep?

It took a while to get to my bearings, but when I finally stood up, I noticed with no small amount of interest that there was no floor. I seemed to be standing in air. Hundreds of what could only be described as clockwork gears surround me, along with floating white masks. All, in all, I seemed to be tripping balls. Looking up at where the sky should be, I was instead greeted by the sight of a colossal planet floating overhead. My first guess was that it was Jupiter, based off of astronomy books I glanced through in my spare time.

"I know what you're thinking, and no, that's not Jupiter."

Startled by the voice, I checked my surroundings, trying to find the source in the ethereal clock tower.

"It's actually a planet in the Persephoniac Galaxy, about twelve trillion light years from Earth. I have no idea _why_ it's there, just that it is.

The voice came directly from behind, and I slowly turned, only to find Videk, his notorious smirk in place, hands fiddling with one of the many floating masks. Treating the whole situation as if it happened normally. Twisted the mask so it faced toward me. Unlike the others, which were all blank, this mask had some sort of red symbol on it, reminiscent of a bird taking flight.

"Videk, where are we? And also, how much whiskey did I drink?"

He was spinning the mask on his index finger now. "The collective unconsciousness of the will of humanity."

Because that explained everything.

"Or, I suppose you could call it," he paused, and place the mask over his face.

"The world of God."


	3. Third Move: Offer

Disclaimer: I do not own Code Geass. This piece of fiction was written for the sole purpose of my enjoyment. Also because Charles doesn't get enough screen time. I get he's supposed to be an antagonist and all, but come on! How cool is he? Especially when it turns out he's not just some stereotypical villain.

Special thanks to **kaiser11492 **for allowing me to use his AU timeline, _Classical History of the Holy Britannian Empire._

* * *

If I didn't know better, I'd think paperwork was a unique form of torture.

I crumpled another document before casually tossing it into the waste bin. Yet another request from the House of Lords to invade Japan. Unless I approved of it (and regarding father's stance on the matter, I was reluctant to do such), then the bill would never be passed to the Emperor. I was starting to tire from the Lord's consistent bickering. Did they not see the possible consequences of what would happen if the invasion were to actually be carried out? Imbeciles. As long as I was in a position of power, Japan would remain relatively untouched. For now.

"Your Highness?

I looked up from the new document, a report on Germany's increasingly strained ties with the E.U., to see my personal butler, Frederich. Dressed in his impeccable black-and-white uniform and waistcoat, he looked just as a butler should. Were it not for the fact that he was the same age as I, his voice could have been mistaken for an older man's. He bowed dutifully, his eyes never leaving mine.

"Yes, Frederich?"

"His Lordship Duke Giurstern waits in the Atrium. He requests your company."

I hesitated for but a moment. "Show him in."

He bowed curtly and departed, closing the door from which he had entered. Sighing internally, I gathered the remaining documents into a neat pile on the right corner of father's desk. Well, it was my desk now. It could have been Videk's but...

Seven years had passed since the death of my parents. The culprit had never been caught. This was to be expected. After all, I knew what a political assassination was. If someone wanted my parent's dead, they would have hired the best of the best. I however, was not interested in the one who committed the deed. Although it would be nice to personally wring their necks, my true target was the employer.

Grandmother Hierria (who still insisted I call her Aunt) was growing old. Even she no longer denied this cruel truth. The race for the Throne had begun. My parents were just the first. The murder of Royal Family members had become commonplace, taking a life every other day. The most recent death had been my half-sister, Amalia. A pity. I actually got along with her, as opposed to the rest of the family. Even Big Brother Nathaniel, a cunning strategist and military genius, had been killed.

We were dropping like flies.

The study door once again opened. A rotund man wearing typical noble attire walked into the room, followed by Frederich. The man sported a large walrus mustache (which was evidently all the rage among the nobility these days) and wore a monocle on his left eye. He was checking a ornately decorated pocket watch, as if he'd rather be anywhere else but here. Considering the history between our families, the thought was mutual.

Frederich bowed once, a slight look of disdain on his visage. Even he knew of the age-old conflict between the di Britannia's and the Giursterns. "His Lordship Duke Guirstern." He exited the study and closed the door.

Pocketing the watch, Giurstern strolled forward and sat in the plush armchair opposite of me. An awkward silence fell between us, something neither of us were willing to break. Unfortunately, someone had to.

"It's been a while, Gabriel." My voice was sickly sweet, tinged with bitterness.

"Indeed it has, Charles." He carried the same demeanor as I.

"Whatever reason do you have to visit my humble abode?"

He scoffed. "Hmph. Humble. I think not. This manor reeks of ambigoriance." I didn't bother pointing out that ambigoriance wasn't a word. I was instead focused on the hypocrisy in that statement. After all, at least my house didn't have a crystal statue of Eowyn on its front lawn.

"Our respective homes aside..."

"Yes, yes, I know. I'd prefer not to spend any of my time in this poorly decorated study any longer than I must." Bastard, He couldn't be bothered to just _pretend_ to be civil. He reached into his jacket, which was much too tight for a man of his physique to be wearing, and withdrew a small envelope. The slip of paper itself was not what caught my attention, but the waxed seal on the lip of it. "As your spies must undoubtedly know by now, your older sibling, Prince Augustopher, is planning to launch a coup de tat against your dear Grandmother Hierria."

The fake smile I wore hadn't faltered in the slightest. "The Empress prefers to be known as _Aunt_ Hierria, Gabriel."

He snorted, an ugly sound. "Frankly speaking, I don't give a damn what that old bag of bones prefers to be known as. As I was saying," he slid the envelope on my desk in front of me, "your brother is planning to become the next Emperor of Britannia. I'm not sure why, but he insisted I convince you to join our group. He thinks your intelligence would be a valuable asset in our cause." He leaned forward, a smirk dominant on his features. "Even if you have quite the reputation as... well, the Coward of Britannia."

One thing I feel should be mentioned before I continue. It will better explain why Giurstern spoke the way he did around me, and why he so casually discussed a possible overthrow of the Empress in my presence.

Over the last seven years, I have worked diligently to secure a reputation among the higher echelons of Britannia's nobility. It took hard work, bribery, and no small amount of acting, but I had finally become known throughout the Empire as a typical Prince. And by typical, I mean cowardly and indecisive. The only difference between me and my less known family was that I had decided to take up politics. You'd think it unusual, a boy of sixteen years plunging headfirst into the unforgiving world of bureaucracy, but such a thing was common in the Empire. After several less than successful negotiations with developing countries, unintentionally starting a civil war in the E.U.'s African territories, and even giving in to a particularly absurd sakuradite importation charter, many had labeled me a Prince with too much time on my hands. However, these 'incidents', as they were known in the homeland, were, in actuality, beneficial to me. The countries I turned away from Britannia were controlled by corrupt governments who wouldn't hesitate to leach off our far superior economy. The ongoing war in Africa was over a secret gold mine deposit, and I had supplied both sides with weapons, as long as I received 20% of total profits from the winning side. Even the sakuradite, overpriced though it was, went mostly to Britannian refineries, and only a small portion was left for the Federation and Union to fight over. I was, for lack of a better comparison, a lion playing a mouse.

Of course, my mannerisms perfectly reflected this false persona. Most people, _especially _nobles, fell for it.

"I think your exaggerating a tad bit." I wiped an imaginary bead of sweat off my brow. Sometimes, stoking a man's ego is the key to getting information. And since it was a noble I was interrogating (a fact made better since it was _Gabriel Giurstern_, the blubbering prick), his arrogance would cover up any flawed acting I might execute.

"I'm pleased to say, Charles, that I'm not."

"Don't you think you're being a little harsh?"

"Don't you think you should act like a Prince of the Empire ought to?"

Oh, good one Giurstern. I lowered my head in mock shame.

Twisting his ridiculously long mustache, he smiled at my apparent shame. "Yes, I'm surprised Augustopher would even consider letting you join our alliance. Alas, he is to be the next Emperor, not I." He briefly checked his pocket watch and replaced it. "My time is not to be wasted, Charles. Are you going to read your letter, or would you prefer I read it aloud to you? Even with your abysmal reputation, I doubt you are illiterate." The way he said all this reminded me of some clichéd villain. Ironic, as that was what most of the Britannian court thought of him as.

Reaching towards the envelope, I gingerly opened it with a letter opener I drew from my desk drawer. I slid the paper out and held to the light.

_My Dearest Brother Charles- _Dearest. Hm. I could count on my right hand how many times we've met outside of the royal banquets- _as I am sure you are aware- _oh, you have absolutely no idea- _the_ _nobility is becoming increasingly frustrated with the Empress's recent political alignments. Though I am sure she means well, it is our duty as Princes of Britannia to help the country wherever and whenever we can. Even if that means pruning a number of weeds disguised as roses. _I was beginning to think Augustopher himself wrote this, and not his secretary. After all, no one would ever make those plant innuendos in good taste. _In order to right this Empire, I have taken it upon myself to personally dethrone Aunt Hierra. _Well, at least he got the memo about what to call the Empress.

_While some may ridicule you for your political misfortunes, I know that you possess a keen intellect, one that would greatly benefit our cause. _Did he honestly believe fancy wordplay would sway me to his side? Though, to be fair, Augustopher thought he was writing to the same person who managed to indirectly insult the navy of the Chinese Federation._ I believe that you could play a greater part in the empire, one where your many skills could be put to use. _If that didn't smell like political manipulation, I didn't know what did.

The letter continued for longer than I dreaded. Filled with symbolism, patriotic rants, and at one point, a poem, it was as if Augustopher was trying to confuse me into submission. He actually expected this to work? Who knows? It might have, if not for one particular sentence.

_-that your late brother, Videk, would truly appreciate._

I tore the letter with such fury that not even I could falsify the emotion.

Obviously Giurstern didn't expect this. "What the bloody hell do you think you're doing, you nutter!?"

It took a moment for me to calm down. I ran my hand slowly through my shoulder-length hair. Breathing in deeply, I exhaled and looked into the outraged eyes of the overly large noble in front of me.

"I am afraid," I began, my voice an eerie monotone, "that I will have to decline my brother's _generous _offer."

I was deathly afraid at present. Not because of the impending rage that clearly marked the Dukes visage, but because I was afraid if his face scrunched up anymore than it already had, his monocle might pop out and hurt someone. "And why," his teeth visibly clenched "no, what _possible _reason could you have to decline?"

"I think his name is stupid."

To my relief, his monocle didn't fly out, but simply dropped to the floor. His attitude, though, left much to be desired."Are you mad? Without his help, you'll become nothing! You think that you can continue on as you are, shaming Britannia with your lack of a spine and angering any country in sight?" Giurstern spat these words from his mouth as though they were some foul tasting brew. "We gave you a chance to join us, to become something more than you are truly worth. If you're hoping to betray us to that figurehead of an Empress, then you've got another thing coming!" In order to punctuate his now bellowing voice, he abruptly stood up from his chair and reached into his jacket, pulling out what appeared to be a ceramic gun.

"What," I began, in the same monotonous tone I had used before, betraying no emotion,"exactly are you doing, Gabriel?"

"I'm trimming a weed that's tangled itself in the glorious garden of the Holy Empire of Britannia!"

"What is it with you two and plant metaphors? That was in awful taste."

He cocked the hammer back on what I was beginning to think was a tranquilizer pistol. It was probably loaded with some paralytic toxin that would give him enough time to escape the manor. Even if he killed me, all he had to do was go into hiding until Augustopher claimed the throne. "Despite your inability to properly think things through, I honestly believed even _you _couldn't be this much of an imbecile."

I calmly placed the remains of the correspondence into my waste bin. "And _I _thought even _you _wouldn't be so foolish to draw a pistol on a Royal Family member.

"Goodbye, Charles di Britannia." He grinned with psychotic glee. It was a complete 180 from the calm and collected noble that had originally entered my study. "Tell your brother Videk I said hello."

I grinned as well, although for a slightly different reason than Giurstern. "As pleasant as that sounds, I'm afraid I have _far _too many plans to die so soon. Frederich?"

"I have it, sir."

I enjoyed the sight of the haughty nobles face visibly falling. Behind him stood my ever loyal butler Frederich, who had placed a pistol (a real one, I might add) to Giurstern's temple. The noble's eyes watered and his hands trembled in tell-tale fear.

Reaching into the bottom most drawer of my desk, I withdrew a flask of brandy. "Frederich, be a sport and fetch my bottle opener?" Without a word, my personal servant tossed a silver device to me, which I deftly caught. Giurstern watched in astonishment as I nonchalantly poured two glasses. "I'm terribly sorry, I've instructed dear Frederich here it's not polite to just stick a pistol to someone's head." Pushing myself out of my chair, I plucked the two glasses from the desk and stood in front of the panicking Duke. "He should always go for the throat with a knife. Much less difficulty in cleaning up afterwards. Brandy?"

In what I imagined was fear, Giurstern shook his head with no small amount of hesitance.

Taking that as a no, "Suit yourself. I'd give the bottle to Frederich, but he's preoccupied at the moment. What with holding you hostage and all." I downed the first glass and set it back down on my desk. "Are you absolutely sure? These are from my brother Xavier's personal stores. Gave it to me on me four months ago. I've been saving it for a special occasion." When I got no response, "Well, alright. To each their own." I swallowed the remaining brandy. I let the familiar liquid wash down my throat like smoldered fire. Smiling, I threw the glass over my shoulder. The sound of breaking glass filled the room for a split-second, and I was rewarded with a hearty flinch from Giurstern.

"Now then, Gabriel, I'm normally a very patient man." I slowly grasped the ceramic from his still-shaking hands. Vaguely noting the fine craftsmanship of the tool, I turned it in my hand before placing it directly in front of Giurstern's left eye, now unhindered by the strain of the monocle. "But you must understand. You've insulted my house, tried to involve me in a rebellion, threatened my life, and even refused a glass of my finest brandy despite how kindly I offered it. A lesser man would have put you out of your misery by now."

"P-pl-please! I-I- I don-" Anything else he may have said was lost in nervous gibberish.

"Frederich? What is he saying?"

"I believe he is attempting to beg for his life, your highness." He said this without batting an eyelash.

"Hm. Indeed. Oh, stop sniveling, Gabriel, I'm not going to kill you."

The disenfranchised duke looked at me, hope in his desperate eyes. "R-really?"

"Of course not. Only those that are prepared to be killed should kill. I'm afraid I'm not quite ready to make that step just yet."

Giurstern smiled euphorically. "Thank you, thank you so mu-"

"However," I enjoyed seeing the noble shrivel back into a lump of nerves, "I do have an alternative purpose for you."

I reached up to my eyes and removed from my left a purple contact lens I had made for myself specifically. At first, nothing happened. And then, I felt it. The familiar surge of power, a temporary moment of clarity in a foggy world. It spread throughout my body, and collected into my left eye. My hard eyes glared into the soft ones of the dukes.

"I, Charles Astroth Manchester di Britannia, place unto you, Gabriel St. Michael Giurstern, false memories of a false experience..."

* * *

As the duke stumbled into his limousine, no doubt with the worlds most irritating headache, I couldn't help but smirk, watching from my window as the vehicle gave a speedy retreat.

Frederich stood behind me silent as ever. As quiet as he was, I had known him for a while now, and knew he was about to explode from the questions he wished to ask. Of course, having placed a pawn on the board, no matter how insignificant, put me in a fair mood. I would indulge my servant this time.

"You may speak, Frederich."

He nodded. "Sir, was it really wise to let him just... walk away? I won't pretend to understand the extent of your power, but certainly it isn't safe for him to set him free among the masses?"

I smiled at my butler's curiosity. "Oh Frederich, you worry too much." I sat back in my father's, no, _my _chair, and adjusted my self. "He'll go off and tell Augustopher that I accepted his little invitation. Then, once my idiotic half-brother attempts to dethrone Aunt Hierria, I'll swoop in like a knight in shining armor. That should gain me more trust than I already possess with the Empress."

"Like Lancelot, sir?"

"I prefer Gawain."

Frederich lingered beyond the desk, unsure of what to do with himself. When I made no further demands, he attempted to silently exit.

"Oh, Frederich?"

"Yes, your highness?"

"Be a sport and ask the chef what we're having for desert tonight. I rather enjoyed the key lime pie yesterday."

"Of course."

"Oh, one more thing!"

"Yes sir?"

"Can you ask Videk to come up here? He'll get a chuckle or two out of this, he will."


End file.
